Chapter 10
Norah eyed the vibrating phone like a pit viper as it danced across Miranda’s coffee table. Her father. For the sixth time in the last hour. No voicemails.
He knew.
Stop being a coward, she ordered herself. Get it over with.
The phone felt heavy in her sweaty hand. “Dad.”
“What the hell is this about you being fired?”
She winced and pulled the phone away from her ear as he continued.
“What the hell is going on, Norah? Where have you been?”
Her head began to throb. “If you’ll stop yelling for five minutes, I’ll tell you.” Norah slid off the sofa to pace and rub at her temples. She gave her father a bare bones account of the events that led to her termination. With every step, every word, her shoulders tightened.
“No, sir, I’m not legally liable for anything. Neither I nor Helios broke any official laws.”
“Do you have copies of all the legal paperwork between Hugo’s and the city?”
Because, of course, her word on the stand wasn’t good enough. She was supposed to produce evidence. “Why would I? We didn’t have that kind of role in the project. We didn’t make any decisions, sign any documents short of the standard contracts we sign with all clients, outlining our scope of work.” She wrapped one arm tight around her middle and did an about face, heading toward the dining room. “Mine was a moral objection to the actions of the firm, not an actual legal issue.”
“Do you know what this could do to your career?”
I should hang up. But years of conditioned behavior had her staying on the line, continuing to defend her decisions in the hope that one day she’d argue well enough that he’d see her side—maybe even offer approval. But today wasn’t going to be that day. She made another circuit, living room to dining room and back before stopping to drop her head back against the nearest wall as she listened to what he imagined was counsel but came across more like orders.
God, she wanted Cam. Wanted his support, his level head, his touch. But that wasn’t an option. So she steeled her spine as she’d done for the last twenty years. “With all due respect, Dad, I’ll handle it. I know this was never the career you or Mom would’ve picked for me, but that’s not the point. It’s what I chose.”
“It was a poor decision.”
And you never get tired of reminding me of that. “Yes, you both made it quite clear that you didn’t agree with that decision. That doesn’t make what I do have less value.”
“I’m really disappointed in you, Norah. You have so much potential and you continue to waste it, wasting all the advantages your mother and I worked to give you. I really expected better of you.”
She blanched, staying silent as she absorbed that blow. When she answered, her voice was small and oh so tired. “You’re entitled to your opinion, Dad, just like I’m entitled to mine. Whatever I do next will still be what I choose. I’m not going to suddenly turn around and go back to law or medical school because it’s what you want. Now, you’ve been informed. Go ahead and call Mom and share your mutual disappointment in me. I’ve got work to do.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, Norah hung up. Then she turned her phone completely off and crossed to lay it on the coffee table with meticulous care, before she could give in to the impulse to hurl it against the wall.
Damn him. Damn him and all his expectations and guilt trips and goddamned cross examinations. It’s my life.
And it was a mess. She’d stubbornly put off dealing with it in the name of saving Wishful. But if she was to have any kind of career to go back to when the campaign was done, she had to get off her ass and start taking steps to straighten things out.
Even the idea of it left her feeling hollow and exhausted. But that was pretty par for the course these days.
The sound of the doorbell had her groaning. Company was the last thing she wanted. But it might be about the campaign. So many balls were up in the air, she really couldn’t afford to leave her phone off for long.
Schooling her features into an expression of polite welcome, Norah opened the door.
Piper, bounced inside. “This is a kidnapping!”
Norah stared at the very short skirt and pink straw cowboy hat her friend was sporting. “I’m sorry, what?”
“We failed to adhere to our sacred duty upon your arrival and must now rectify that oversight.”
“Which sacred duty is that?”
“The part where we go out dancing and drink to the shriveling of your ex’s dick.” This was stated in a tone of duh.
“She’s bloodthirsty, our Piper,” Tyler said from the doorway.
It was a sentiment Norah could get behind, even if the object of her ire was a little different. “While I appreciate the thought, I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
The coalition meeting had gone well. She’d successfully sold them on a Shop Local campaign and laid the foundation for a grassroots movement. But even with the help of the new coalition chairwoman, Molly Montgomery—who evidently had a membership or officer position in every civic group in town—it meant her workload had quadrupled.
“All work and no play makes Norah a dull girl,” Piper sang.
“All work and no play makes Norah a successful girl.” She returned to her position on the sofa.
“There is more to life than work.”
An ache bloomed in Norah’s chest as she thought of Cam and his life lessons. There’d been no more of them since she broke things off. Not a surprise. And not that there’d been time. They’d both been working their asses off to get this campaign off the ground.
“You might as well give in,” Tyler added. “She doesn’t take no for an answer.”
Norah looked down at her yoga pants and sweatshirt. “I’m hardly dressed for going out. And Miranda will be home from her ER rotation in an hour.”
“She’s meeting us there when she gets off.” Piper stepped over the piles of folders and tugged Norah up. “Come on.”
Norah had no intention of going. She had census data to dig through and city tax records to analyze. Not to mention the website mock-up she wanted to finish before the next coalition meeting. But forty-five minutes later, she was being hustled through the door of the Mudcat Tavern, fully made up and wearing borrowed cowboy boots, as Piper had declared her knee-high English riding boots “too citified for this kind of dancing” and insisted that they did not meet Bitch Boot status. Norah was pretty sure some kind of magic had been involved.
The pretty, older bartender flashed a welcoming smile. “What’ll it be ladies?”
Piper slapped the bar. “Adele, we’re here for the Three Furies. Norah here has been wronged by an idiot man.”
More than one.
“Is there any other kind?” Adele asked.
Norah exercised more caution than Piper. “And what exactly does the Three Furies entail?”
“It’s a tradition of long standing, dating back to just after college when He Who Is Not Worth Naming walked out of my life,” Tyler explained. “First shot is tequila because you’re drinking to forget a worm. Second shot is whiskey, in honor of the fire in your belly. Third shot is Jaeger, which will kick all asses. And after each, you get a shot at Bob the Bastard.”
“Bob the Bastard?”
Adele lifted a sad burlap…thing from behind the counter. It had a crude face embroidered on and four rough limbs flung out akimbo. A fifth…protuberance was painted in red between the legs.
“Is that…a voodoo doll?”
“Sort of. We mount him on the dartboard and take shots at his nuts. It’s terribly cathartic. I think this is actually Bob the Sixth. The Three Furies is a popular ritual.” Tyler patted Bob on the head.
“It’s one that has stood us in good stead, and as you are now officially a part of the Sisterhood, it is your duty to participate,” Piper said.
Norah wondered what sisterhood that was, exactly. “Oh, well I don’t do shots. I’m more a sedate gl
ass of wine or the occasional glass of Scotch kind of girl. And, really, I’m over it. Not even on the rebound.” Why should she waste time thinking about Pierce when she was already half crazy for a better man she wouldn’t let herself have?
Piper gave her a baleful glance. “Are you seriously not going to cooperate?”
The idea of throwing darts at Pierce’s junk in effigy was pretty appealing. All this mess had started with him. “Well, if it’s that important to you.”
“Damn straight.”
Adele set out a salted shot glass and poured the tequila while Tyler affixed Bob to one of the dart boards on the wall. A cheer went up around the bar.
“Okay Norah, you have to name him,” Tyler called.
“Pierce Vargas.”
“Here hangs the bastard Pierce Vargas, Asshole of the First Degree,” Tyler intoned. “Administering his sentence is Norah Burke, the Supremely Wronged Party. Norah, you may begin when ready.”
When in Rome. Norah took the shot, wincing at the burn as she bit the lime. God, tequila was nasty. Piper offered up the first dart and she took her position behind the line. After clearing the pucker from her face, Norah zeroed in on the doll less than eight feet away.
“Feel free to list his crimes.”
“For being a lying douchenozzle.”
Bringing Pierce’s smug, supercilious face to mind, she let the dart fly. It embedded in one of the arms. The crowd cheered.
“Not bad.” Piper nodded in approval. “Extra points for using ‘douchenozzle’ correctly in a sentence. That counts as first blood. Bet you can do better, though. Adele, bring on the Jack!”
“Shouldn’t I eat something first?” Norah tried to remember if she’d had lunch.
“We’ll order after you’re done. Don’t want to lose your momentum.”
If only my Chicago colleagues could see me now. She accepted the second glass. All those pretentious, self-absorbed professionals would consider this behavior completely unseemly. The idea made her grin as she took the second shot. The whiskey went down easier, smoothing some of the edges she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying around. Maybe they were on to something with this whole thing.
The dart Piper handed her felt warm in her palm.
“For not appreciating that I was the best thing to ever happen to you.”
You were supposed to exhale when throwing, right? Or maybe that was just archery. She couldn’t remember, but it seemed like a good idea, so when Norah stepped up to the line, she took a series of deep breaths as she aimed. On a last gust, she released with a snap. It hit a mere half inch below the desired target, to the collective groans of the audience.
“That’s okay, honey. You’ve still got one more to go,” Piper said.
Norah returned to the bar for the Jaeger.
“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here!” Turning, she saw Tucker crossing the bar, Cam, Mitch, and Liam Montgomery right behind.
Cam. Of course, he was here. Because it wasn’t enough that she should see him every day in a work capacity, and almost as often through all her Campbell family interactions. She really needed the Universe to mock her further by throwing him in her path some more with a Nana nana boo boo, look what you gave up for good measure.
God, he looked good. He also looked just a little bit pissed off. She wondered if Tucker and company had dragged him out of his cave like she’d been dragged out of hers.
“Who’s the poor bastard being skewered?” Tucker inquired.
By way of answer, Norah lifted the shot of Jaeger in a toast before tossing it back with a prayer that it would strengthen her resolve. Her cheeks felt flushed as she slapped the glass down on the bar and returned to position for her final shot.
“For my career, you unscrupulous, exploitive son of a bitch.” Norah flung the dart, wishing it was something more substantial, like a knife, as it zoomed forward and buried itself in the doll’s painted scrotum.
The crowd—the females anyway—burst into cheers and applause. Norah took an exaggerated bow and regretted it as the room took a bit of a dip along with it. Food. Food was an immediate priority. And water. Like, a gallon of it. She managed to straighten without lurching.
Mitch swaggered over. “Is this an All-Men-Suck hen party, or can we join you?”
“Better check Norah for sharp, pointy objects,” Cam said. “Clearly she’s dangerous with them.”
Norah assumed a superior air. “He deserved it.”
Piper was grinning like a loon, her arm already looped through Liam’s, so evidently this was to be a mixed party. Hooray, a new challenge to resist Cam, this time with diminished capacity. Norah knew after the lengths they’d gone to getting her here, neither woman was going to just let her go on home, so she didn’t voice the protest.
They commandeered a booth in the corner and put in orders for appetizers. Even as the others broke into a babble of joking conversation, Norah could feel Cam’s eyes on her.
“Are you okay?” He had to lean in close to be heard over the music, and Norah shivered at the feel of his breath on her ear.
“Not even close.” She tossed back a glass of water as if it were another shot.
“What happened?”
“Talked to my dad.”
Cam winced. “As bad as you expected?”
“Worse.” She wished he’d rub her nape, banish some of the tension. But he didn’t touch her. Because they didn’t do that anymore. She wasn’t his to take care of.
“I’m sorry.”
Norah jerked her shoulders. “Over now.” Flashing a smile that was probably more of a snarl, she asked, “And how was your day?”
“Could’ve been better. The economic impact report will be in tomorrow. The Council is convening tomorrow afternoon to go over it and vote.”
The shots turned to acid in her stomach. “So soon? I thought we weren’t expecting it for another month?”
“So did I. Apparently when they said they’d fast-track it, they really meant it.”
Had she done enough? She’d expected to have another month to shift public opinion, get the other Council members on their side. There had barely been time to get the Shop Local campaign off the ground, let alone finish with all the public education components of her plan. At this point, all their hopes were pinned on the results of that study.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She knew the power of optimism. “All our research suggests that the economic impact would be overwhelmingly negative. Any firm worth its salt is going to find the same.”
“I hope you’re right. Either way, tomorrow is D-Day.”
It was a sobering thought. Another sign from the Universe that her time here was winding up. Her mind automatically shifted to the action plan for the coalition, wondering how she should alter the timeline to see that the Shop Local campaign was truly sustainable on its own. Because an end to the anti-GrandGoods campaign meant an end to her time in Wishful. And an end to her time with Cam. She told herself it would be easier away from him, back in the real world, where everyone had expectations and the standard operating procedure was looking out for number one.
And when had she become a woman who looked for easy?
“You two look entirely too serious. I know just the way to turn that frown upside down.” Tucker grabbed her hand. “Come on, sugar.”
“No, no, no, nono. I don’t—oh Jesus.” Abruptly, she found herself spun in some complicated sequence as an Alan Jackson song rocked out from the juke box.
Tyler waved after them. “Don’t worry. Tucker makes everybody look good!”
~*~
Despite his lousy mood, Cam couldn’t help but be amused as Tucker dragged a very panicked Norah out on the dance floor. Piper wasn’t far behind, Liam in tow.
Mitch turned and offered a hand to Tyler, “May I have this dance, fair lady? We could put them to shame or die trying.”
“Not even for you, dear heart.”
He mimed brushing away tears. “In that case, beer. Pitcher?”<
br />
“Get a couple,” Cam said. “Pretty sure Liam’s gonna need a lot to recover from Piper’s enthusiasm.”
“Soldier boy’s got game,” Tyler observed as Mitch headed for the bar.
“Not yo’ mama’s Texas two step, right there. That’s, like, the Magic Mike version.”
She slanted him a Look.
“What? I saw the previews.”
Cam’s gaze was drawn inexorably back to Norah, who looked beyond uncomfortable on the dance floor. Tucker might as well have been trying to swing dance with a fence post for all the natural grace and rhythm she displayed. It was so absolutely counter to the way she usually conducted herself, he almost wanted to laugh.
“You know, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself. There really is something Norah’s not good at. Do you suppose it’s the alcohol?”
“No, bless her heart. She hasn’t got an ounce of rhythm and isn’t following his lead at all,” Tyler said. “Of course, he’s tryin’ to showboat and going way above a basic skill level.”
Cam thought back to New Year’s. She hadn’t had any trouble following his lead.
“Okay, so I have no idea what excuse y’all are using to keep yourselves from following through on the sparks you throw off every time you get within ten feet of each other, but I’m pretty sure we’ve taken out her half of them with those shots. So what are you going to do about it, Crawford?”
Cam cut a glance toward Tyler. “Do about it?”
“Why else do you think I got Tucker to drag you out tonight? Don’t even try to tell me you don’t have a thing for her. I’ve known you too many years for that to fly. You’ve never looked at any woman like that.”
Uncomfortable, Cam wondered if any of his family had made the same observation.
“She looks at you the same way when she thinks nobody’s looking. Whatever her objections are, they have nothing to do with lack of interest. Don’t tell me you’re going to waste this opportunity to work on her when her shields are down.”
“You are a sneaky bitch.”
“You love me,” she said, smug.
“Yes, yes, I do.” He’d wanted an opportunity to prove to Norah that there were more important things in life than career. Judging by the nut shot she’d taken at Bob the Bastard, she absolutely wasn’t in a frame of mind to let go of that perspective. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do, though.”